


Thinking

by snoqualmie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Iwaizumi daydreams, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoqualmie/pseuds/snoqualmie
Summary: The furoshiki that Oikawa wraps his bento with is the same baby pink as his PSP and covered in little white flowers. Oikawa always eats rice with his fingers. Iwaizumi’s never had a blowjob.





	

The furoshiki that Oikawa wraps his bento with is the same baby pink as his PSP and covered in little white flowers. Oikawa always eats rice with his fingers. Iwaizumi’s never had a blowjob. Iwaizumi watches Oikawa suck grains of rice off his fingers and complain about his upcoming math test. Iwaizumi wants a blowjob.

Oikawa’s mouth is warm and wet when they kiss. His fingertips get cold when he’s wound up and Iwaizumi can almost still feel them all icy and pressed up against his neck, under his jaw, against his temples. Oikawa’s thighs, smooth and soft on either side of his body, squeezing and shaking while they kiss and kiss and kiss. His lips are always soft. They’re always catching on Iwaizumi’s when they try to breathe and kiss at the same time. They feel good against Iwaizumi’s mouth, against his cheeks and his jaw.  
  
Iwaizumi watches him play with the furoshiki, long fingers twisting, pinching, pulling at the edge of it that’s hanging over the edge of the table, thinks about what it would be like to have Oikawa’s hand wrapped around his dick.  
  
The tips of Oikawa’s fingers are calloused and there’s a little chain of more callouses right at the top of his palm. The rest of his palms are soft, though. He uses some weird beeswax hand shit that smells like heaven. Oikawa actually just always smells like heaven. Lavender and Old Spice deodorant and the last decade and a half of his life, warm rain and fresh popcorn and grass. The last part is probably just Iwaizumi projecting.  
  
It's strange, maybe, that the person he can’t stop thinking about fucking is kind of the physical manifestation of his childhood. They’ve grown up together and maybe that’s the key word. _Grown._ They’re not little kids anymore.  
  
Oikawa at eighteen is long limbs and pale skin and the blotchiest blush Iwaizumi has ever seen. He's teasing words and big talk until Iwaizumi’s got him pinned to the floor of his bedroom and is pressing a knee up between his legs.  
  
He's summer sunshine and catching bugs and holding hands no matter how sweaty they got. Iwaizumi has fuzzy memories of soft kisses on the mouth because they both saw their parents doing it and since their parents loved each other and they loved each other, didn’t that mean they were supposed to do it?  
  
Oikawa is still soft kisses twelve years later but now they pack a punch that ties Iwaizumi’s guts into knots. In the changing room, between aisles at the supermarket when nobody’s looking, even if there are people looking. Oikawa doesn’t care. He’s too much determination and too little self-preservation and nowhere near enough genuine laughter. The skin between his thighs is soft and warm and it's been two days since Iwaizumi’s kissed it.  
  
He and Matsukawa are bickering over something about morning practice and Oikawa is getting annoyed, shoulders coming up and hands waving.  
  
He’s so _pretty_. His face twists up in the most ridiculous expressions. He’s dramatic and whiny and Iwaizumi's been pretending to be annoyed by it for as long as he can remember.  
  
He’s heavy lidded and lazy-boned when he’s been kissed for too long. He’s always leaning back and sucking in ragged breaths while Iwaizumi bites at the column of his throat, tries not to leave any marks that anybody could see. And it’s fucking _annoying_ to not be able to leave marks, to not suck hard at the warm skin he can get his mouth on while Oikawa gropes at the front of his pants. But when Oikawa starts letting him leave marks places that people won’t see anyway, it gets better.  
  
They’ve gotten to second base, technically, quite a few times, but kissing and getting felt up at the same time is hard so there’s always a lot of heavy breathing and Iwaizumi trying to get Oikawa to stop just _squeezing_ his arms and shoulders so they can kiss more. Oikawa’s parent’s bedroom is all the way at the other end of the hallway. He’d probably have to fucking bite down on his fist if Oikawa blew him while they were home. Or if he blew Oikawa, which is also a really, really nice idea. Oikawa turns to him and he’s got this expectant look on his face like Iwaizumi’s supposed to be responding. He’s not even listening to the conversation.  
  
Oikawa’s eyebrows come down and his lower lip pokes out into a pout. He thinks Iwaizumi is ignoring him, which is hilarious and embarrassing at the same time because Iwaizumi is just wondering how much of Oikawa’s dick he could fit into his mouth. If he could handle it at the back of his throat and how bad he wants to test his theory that he totally could handle it. He looks cute with his face all screwed up like that, though, grumpy and petulant like a kid. Iwaizumi should probably pay attention to what he’s about to say.  
  
“Are you even listening?” Oikawa leers.  
  
“Not to whatever shit you’re saying,” Iwaizumi replies. His voice catches in his throat a little and Oikawa’s fingers still where they’re tapping on the edge of the desk.  
  
Oikawa’s eyes narrow for a split second and then he gets this look on his face like he’s surprised and a little confused. But he snaps back into the conversation, snatching his phone up from off the table near his bento.  
  
Iwaizumi’s phone buzzes in his lap a few moments later.  
  
_Are you thinking about something dirty??!!! Naughty Iwa-chan!!!!_  
  
Iwaizumi sends back a simple _yeah._  
  
_What about!!!! I know for sure its something wild!!! because your eyebrows are all frowny._  
  
Iwaizumi’s never given head before but he’s thinking about Oikawa leaned up against the headboard, eyebrows pulled tight together, mouth open in a perfect little "o" shape. That blotchy flush in his face, down his neck, across his chest. The heft of Oikawa in his hand, on his tongue, warm and smooth. He’s probably hook a leg around Iwaizumi and dig his stupidly pointy heel into his back. Oikawa’s heels digging into his back is a whole other can of worms. Iwaizumi watches Oikawa scoop up another fingerful of rice, thinks about his breath huffing out into Iwaizumi’s mouth. Thinks about pushing slow and steady and careful into tight heat. Oikawa’s voice all breathy and muffled behind his hand. _Hajime, Hajime, right there._ Digging his fingers into soft thighs, the sound of skin on skin. Oikawa’s hitching breath, his hips rolling and his eyes squeezed shut tight. Or maybe open and looking up at Iwaizumi all wide and watery because Oikawa is _always_ crying and he’d probably cry during sex, too. Which shouldn’t be hot but, huh.  
  
If Iwaizumi tells Oikawa what he’s thinking about his head will shoot straight into the stratosphere and he’ll never let Iwaizumi live it down.  
  
He replies, _“Idk. Kissing and shit.”_  
  
_Boring!! Tell me the nasty details iwa-chan!! Talk dirty to me …at lunch. So romantic._  
  
He needs to _stop_ thinking because there’s already a vague situation and he’s going to have to stand up to leave and go to his next class soon. He sends Oikawa a picture of a plant wearing sunglasses.  
  
Matsukawa reaches over and taps his fingers all over the screen of Iwaizumi’s phone, “Dude, who the hell are you texting? Why are you being so weird today?”  
  
Iwaizumi scowls at the string of random characters Matsukawa managed to type. He holds up his middle finger, schooling his expression into something uninterested.  
  
“Dude,” he mocks, shoving Matsukawa. “I’m just tired. Chill.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-avPphnn1HgE/UWVtSsUoQZI/AAAAAAAAHWc/FEKc-l1SKws/s1600/IMG_0021.JPG) is the picture Iwaizumi sent Oikawa.


End file.
